


Working within the shades of gray

by Moahoa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, rosemary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moahoa/pseuds/Moahoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've given up at this point, made peace with the fact that you just don't have someone and that that's okay. You have your hobbies, hobbies that developed into a multibillion dollar business at that. You can have everything you want and usually you feel content, you've even dated a few half-souls, so intimacy is not even a problem. You are happy. You are.. mostly.</p><p>Some days though.  * Soulmate AU. *</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working within the shades of gray

 

 

_\--- > Be the Maryam._

 

You hate November.

 

Out of all the months of the year it's the worst of the worst. Your workload almost doubles from september as you simultaneously have to advertise and launch the new winter collection and there's something about the passage of celebrating a successful collection to having to do it all over that just drains the life out of everything. That and the cold and wind and unpredictable weather, just last week you had to cancel a shoot with vouge, VOUGE. Not to mention that your studio/office was clearly built as an ode to the art of fashion, complete with open spaces and huge panoramic windows, sadly it's not also an ode to isolation.

 

This is precisely why you've practically locked yourself into your office, the only place where a heater is effective. Also you work better on your own while sketching. Currently, you are drawing a coat, but you can't seem to get it right, it just looks hideous and oversized even on paper.

 

A knock temporarily distracts you from your frustration.

 

”Yes?” You ask the wooden structure, praying that it isn't an other problem with the Hong Kong manufacturer, you don't have time to waste on finding yet an other factory, much less make an entirely new deal.

 

”Ms. Maryam, you looked rather stressed this morning and what I could tell judging from your demeanor this very morning I could sense that you might have skipped breakfast. As breakfast is the most important part of any day, I must insist, unless I am wrong of course, that you do indulge in some perishables.” The voice is as obnoxious and shrill as ever, but you find yourself smiling at the sight of the man.

 

”Good morning Kankri.” You reply as your personal assistant let's himself inside, carrying a tray that looks grossly over-sized in comparison to his small frame. You note that there has to be at least 10 dishes on there.A smile graces your lips as you can practically feel the stress seeping out of your pores as you grab a cup of coffe of it and the very obviously hand-made, but equally delicious-looking, bagel.

 

Yep, definitely his sour-wheat kind, you are in heeeaven.

 

But as always Kankri's completely oblivious to his talent in anything and just stands there, nervously shuffling until you breathe out a ”Thank you.”

 

”You are so very welcome Ms. Maryam. I am very obliged but happy to have helped a fellow human being in dire need. It is my one and true calling after all.” He smiles as he speaks and fiddles with the door handle. You are so proud of the way he'd come.

 

”You really should call me Kanaya, y'know?” You suggest, as always.

 

”One of us has to at least pretend to be professional.” He says as he slides the door open ” Ms. Maryam.” He adds, sounding way to smug for his innocent face.

 

You chuckle as he closes the door. God, you love your PA sometimes. To be frank, you never even wanted a PA, you hired him on plea from your sister as he was a friend of hers that had trouble finding a suitable workplace. You'd later found out the reason at the interview as you looked his ID over and found he was a half-soul. As usual the list of mental conditions coming with it had ranged from sever panic attacks to depression.

 

But god's now you have a soft heart for that particular situation as you yourself are close to being labeled the same at the age of 32.

 

32 and still both your worlds range from snow to charcoal.

 

People have long speculated why you only use black and white in your collections. In interviews you say you wanted to help end the discrimination for the ones, like Kankri, the one's who are no longer whole. The tabloids, your friends and probably even Kankri speculate that you're really one of them.

 

Truth be told. You're even worse. You never actually found anyone to loose. At some point in your mid-twenties you stopped searching the crowds, hoping to see a glimmer, hoping to finally be able to tell vermillion apart from blood orange.

 

No such luck.

 

You've given up at this point, made peace with the fact that you just don't have someone and that that's okay. You have your hobbies, hobbies that developed into a multibillion dollar business at that. You can have everything you want and usually you feel content, you've even dated a few half-souls, so intimacy is not even a problem. You are happy. You are.. mostly.

 

Some days though.

 

You sigh, suddenly feeling the silent draft left behind in Kankri's wake. You can't wait to be wrap things up and go home.

 

 

 

 

The sky is as gray and drab as always, but the moment you step outside you feel a chill that tells you that can only mean it's going to rain very soon. You debate going back inside to get an umbrella, but honestly, after a busy day like this, you just want to get home. So instead you quicken your pace and hope to make it home before the heavens decide to drench your favorite chasmere coat.

 

”I don't NEED your charity, mother dearest! So whut if i've had a lil sumthin to ease it?”

 

It's a female voice, a heavily intoxicated one at that and you hear it before you even reach the cubicle. You reflexively slow down your pace and decide to not enter the little wind shelter there is.

Cold and messy-haired or not, you are not in the mood to interact with some drunk girl. The icy november wind reacts as it had heard your thoughts and tries to steal your scarf. Even though you barely manage to catch it you stand your ground and refuse to take shelter.

 

Ugh, you just really, really just want to go home to your warm cosy apartment and like drape yourself in a thousand blankets. Maybe you'll have a good old cup of tea, maybe you'll paint your nails. You think dots would work well with the fall collection.

 

As you begin to ponder wether ruffles was the right direction with the evening gown, the sky decides to vomit H2O all over you, effectively sending you reeling into the present. You run into the cubicle as fast as your high heels can carry you. The intoxicated girl who was previously on her phone falls silent and you praise the heavens for at least one miracle.

 

”Mom, I'll have to call you back.” She finishes the call with an alarmingly sober tone and you can feel her stare. Oh god you hope she's not a fan. You discreetly peer at her from the corner of your eyes; combat boots, black tights from the local department store, a sequenced white skirt, the most hideous oversize coat you've seen, no definitely not a fan. So why is she beaming at you?

That's when you spot her eyes.

 

They're not gray.

 

” Oh.” You can't help but to say it out loud. It's her. You bring a hand to your lips as if any noise might startle her away, make her disappear. _It's so quiet here,_ you think, even though it's pouring and your heart is beating faster than ever before.

 

You want to break the silence but you don't know if you should. Not until you feel tears fall from your eyes, do you even attempt to.

 

”My na-” You sigh and try to compose yourself. ”name is Kanaya.” Much better.

 

”Rose.” The g-your soulmate says as she reaches out and kisses your hand.

 


End file.
